


The Man In The Dinosaur

by euclidsEfinder



Series: The Old Courier [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mental Instability, six is very angry for no real reason, that's what getting shot in the head'll do to you babey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25431709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euclidsEfinder/pseuds/euclidsEfinder
Summary: "‘Oh, so you’re trying to track down your wife?’ Six asks. Boone glares at him, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides and Six almost thinks Bone’s going to hit him until he says, lowly, ‘My wife’s dead. I want that son of a bitch who sold her.’ It takes a while to sink in but, when it does, Six feels himself swallow dryly. He feels nervous, his palms clammy and voice coming out in scratches."Six doesn't understand a lot of things. What he does understand, however, is that Boone is a friend.
Relationships: Craig Boone/Male Courier, Implied/Referenced Craig Boone/Male Courier
Series: The Old Courier [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080695
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	The Man In The Dinosaur

Six holsters his gun and walks warily into the town of Novac, blinking blearily at the lowering sun, dust caught in his half-lidded eyes. His footsteps are heavy and his back is starting to ache due to the amount of shit he’s decided to pick up on his long journey here, despite trading a lot of his scrap with some travellers not too long ago, but he furrows his brow and hauls the slipping knapsack up his back, determined to make it to that huge dinosaur that first caught his eye.

Ignoring the stragglers milling about the small, pre-war bungalows, Six walks into what seems to be a motel lobby just next to the dinosaur, ignoring the worn doormat placed in front of him and walking straight over it, tracking dusty footprints over the floor. The woman behind the desk looks up at him and smiles, regardless.

‘Hello,’ Six chirps, voice raspy from the dust of the Mojave.

‘Hello there, sir,’ the woman begins, accent heavy and thick, much different to Six’s. She continues, ‘Welcome to you. You look tired from the road. Why don’t you relax a spell, let this fine town take care of you?’ Six finds himself frowning slightly. The woman shows a level of familiarity towards him and he finds himself struggling to remember if he’s met her before he was shot in the goddamn head.

‘We haven’t met yet?’ It's more of a question and doesn’t come out quite right but he thinks he’s correct in assuming this woman is a complete stranger, judging by the tiredly surprised expression that graces her somewhat wrinkled face. He’s silently proud of himself that he was able to guess that.

She clasps her hands together and shakes her head. ‘Oh, what am I doing? I got to thinking about making a good impression and plain forgot to tell you my name,’ she tuts to herself. Six isn’t one to be patient, especially not with a hefty knapsack that slips down his shoulders every few seconds (he really should sort the straps out on this thing), but he’s tired and holds no animosity towards the woman, so he smiles wearily at her and stays silent. Thankfully, she continues.

‘I’m Jeannie May. I take care of the folks here at the motel. Long as they aren’t trouble-makers.’ Jeannie tacks on the last sentence as if it were an afterthought. Six nods. He’s been travelling in the Mojave long enough to recognise a warning when it’s given, even if he is a little slow.

‘Nice to meet you, miss.’ Six tips his hat slightly. Jeannie smiles at him. Behind her tinted glasses, her eyes crinkle around the edges.

‘Well, it’s nice to meet you, too. Say, what’s your name?’ Six hesitates for a moment. He still hasn’t come up with a name for himself yet, even after all the spare time he’s been provided with whilst wandering around this barren wasteland. He’s run into plenty of people he’d gladly take the name of, but if he does, he finds he can't stop thinking about them when he says it, and it just drives him bloody insane.

Clearing his throat, Six responds with, ‘Well, what do I look like to you?’ Jeannie May raises her eyebrows before leaning forwards in her chair and studying the man in front of her, eyeing his messy ginger hair and light stubble, the thick brown bag weighing down his shoulders and the dusty cowboy hat pulled over his head.

‘Hmm,’ she ponders. Six shifts the knapsack once more. ‘I’d say you look like a George to me,’ she answers, sitting back in her rusty desk chair. Six shrugs, flashing Jeannie a tired smile. It’s certainly not a name he’d choose for himself.

‘Then we’ll go with that,’ he replies. Jeannie hums, a small frown playing at her face. Six knows it’s not something usual to say, but oh well, what can he do? Until he finds a name, he’ll have to make do with what people give him. He can’t just go around with people calling him “Six” or “Courier” or “That Bastard Who Got Shot In The Head But Lived”.

Six (or “George” to Jeannie. God knows why she picked the name) opens his mouth to ask about merchants but his back cries out in pain and his feet throb so he clamps his mouth shut.

‘My, you poor dear, you do look awful tired,’ Jeannie coos, all mother-hen-like. Six almost ignores her completely.

‘How much for a room?’ he asks, relieved when the words leave his lips, almost as if he’s already in the room. Jeannie’s somewhat concerned expression softens as she replies, ‘Well, I think that's a fine idea. I'll give you a good flat rate, and you can stay as long as you like. Least till the busy season comes. 100 caps is all. Sound good?’ Tiredly, Six nods and fumbles around in his belt, finally digging out the caps and silently handing them over. Jeannie gladly accepts them and counts them twice, smiling as she adds ‘I’m glad you could stay with us. Your room will be the one upstairs, closest to the lobby side.’ Six nods and thanks her, taking the key from Jeannie’s outstretched hand before trudging out of the lobby, bidding Jeannie a goodnight.  
  
  


By the time Six gets to his room, he drops his knapsack to the floor with a heavy thud and throws himself onto the bed, revelling in the softness of the sheets (or what qualifies for softness in the Mojave; standards aren’t exactly high). His head throbs as he feels a migraine coming on but he’s too tired to care. Toeing off his shoes and kicking them to the floor, Six buries his face in the cool pillow and drifts off.

  
  
  
  


When he wakes the next day, he’s got no clue where he is. Six blearily opens his eyes and yawns, rolling from his side and onto his back to stare up at the chipped, off-white ceiling, brow furrowing. He sits upright and looks about the room, the foreign colours hurting his eyes. This wasn’t the room Major Knight had given him back at the Mojave Outpost, the air was cooler and the room smelt more of gunpowder back there. Here it just smells of stale cigarettes and regret. Six holds his breath and clenches his eyes shut, straining to remember what he was doing yesterday. It was something that happened frequently, forgetting things, and Six had come up with the technique to help him concentrate. Made him feel like a damn fool, though.

_ Walking. Heavy bag. Past...army base thing. Big dinosaur. Lady. What was her name? J something. Motel. _

He opens his eyes and the room comes in waves of familiarity back to him. Huffing angrily, Six climbs out of the bed and puts his shoes back on, walking over to his knapsack to retrieve a bottle of purified water, chugging the whole thing before tossing the empty bottle into a nearby bin. Only one thought crosses his mind as he glances out the window to the courtyard:

He wants to see what is in that goddamn dinosaur.

  
  
  


Six rifles through his bag and retrieves his 9mm pistol and some ammo, along with a pack of Sugar Bombs and his hat that’d fallen on the floor the previous night, figuring he could leave the rest of his stuff in the motel room if he locks the door; Novac seems to be a fairly respectable place.

Heading out of the room (and making sure he locked the door a total of three times), Six heads over to the dinosaur, a mixture of interest, confusion and child-like excitement bubbling up inside him. A few of the residents of the bungalows just opposite Six’s room stare at him as he makes his way to the monument but Six ignores them. He can feel the familiar heat of anger and frustration at their gawking faces rise up inside his belly, but he squashes it down. After all, he’s going to go inside this dinosaur. It’s going to be fun.  
  


Six pushes the door to the dinosaur open and is instantly hit with a musty sort of smell that forces its way into his nose and through his brain. The room is fairly small and packed full of small souvenirs staring at him. Behind a counter to his right is a man, nose buried in an old, pre-war book, seated on a chair that’s rocked on its back legs.

‘Hello,’ Six greets, waving minutely. The man looks up and closes his book with a smile, coming to sit forward on his chair.

‘Hello, stranger. Welcome to the Dino Bite Gift Shop. My name's Cliff. If you're here for the t-rex figurines, you're just in time. There's still a few left,’ the man chuckles, smirk playing at his lips. Six quirks an eyebrow and looks at the large selection of plastic dinosaurs sporadically placed around the room. 

‘I’m glad to see that there are some still hangin’ around,’ he chuckles. He can’t tell if Cliff is joking about the toys, but he thinks that his response can work both ways. Cliff only chuckles in response, placing the conversation on Six’s shoulders. Clearing his throat, Six asks, ‘What else do you sell here, aside from the cute dinosaurs?’ Cliff glances around the room at the different bits and pieces placed around the lobby and shrugs.

‘We also have an assortment of the REPCONN factory souvenirs - rockets, things of that nature.’ Six makes an involuntary “Ooh” before asking if he can see them.

‘Yeah, they’re in the storage room over there. I’ll just unlock it for you,’ Cliff replies, producing a key from his trouser pocket and unlocking a door next to him. Six takes that as his cue to see the merchandise, so he drags his feet over behind the counter to stand next to Cliff.   
  
  


A quick glance into the storage room reveals an absolute metric fuck-tonne of model rockets filled with some sort of glowing liquid, surrounding a Sunset Sarsaparilla vending machine. The glowing stuff catches Six’s eye.

‘You got any more information on the rockets?’ Six asks. He doesn’t know what the liquid in the rockets are so he doesn’t ask exactly what he’s thinking, just a vague question so as to avoid getting angry with his own incompetence. He may be impulsive and a little less than intelligent, but he’s not completely stupid. Cliff sniffs slightly, turning away from the models to face Six.

‘They're scale replicas of the real thing. Very detailed. Got a liquid in them that makes them glow,’ he begins. Six almost goes to say “Ooh” again, like a moron, but stops himself just in time. So he says nothing, urging Cliff to continue. 

‘From what I hear, REPCONN used to give them out on tours of their HQ up in Henderson. But I guess they had to stop after the first few kids thought they were filled with Nuka Cola and drank it down.’ Six scoffs and shakes his head, crosses his arms as he looks at Cliff.

‘Wouldn’t the parents stop them?’ he asks. Cliff laughs and shakes his head.

‘No, not at all. I s’pose they didn’t notice, or maybe thought the same as the kids. Never know what those pre-war folk were thinkin’. After all, you’re talking about the people who started all this.’ Cliff gestures vaguely around them and turns back to the memorabilia. Six hums in agreement.

‘Well, the papers actually had a name for the condition and everything. They called it the "REPCONN Shakes".’ Cliff sighs. ‘Those were bad times for RobCo.’

‘So is there radioactive stuff in the rockets?’ Six asks, dropping his arms to his sides and leaning over Cliff’s shoulder to get a closer look at the souvenirs. Cliff hesitates slightly before sighing.

‘I, ah,’ he clears his throat. ‘Well I don't really know. Would that sour you on buying one if it did?’ Six shakes his head.

‘No, it would make it pretty fucking cool,’ he replies, shuffling past Cliff and crouching to get a better look at the model rockets. From this angle, Six notices just how brightly the stuff glows. It’d make sense if they were filled with something radioactive. Could come in handy at some point, Six figures.

‘I want to buy all of your remaining rocket souvenirs,’ he says, coming to stand up next to Cliff. Cliff’s eyes widen and he takes a small step back.

‘Really?’ he asks. Six nods, already reaching for the small pouch on the side of his belt. ‘I never thought I'd see the day.’ At that, Six looks up, shooting Cliff The Look, as he's taken to calling it. Cliff blinks quickly, stammering to rephrase his mistake.

‘I mean...the day I'd part with them for such an incredibly low price. With so many other offers flooding in.’ Six narrows his eyes at the merchant, the familiar heat of frustration bubbling up in his throat and belly again.

‘You don't have any offers for the rockets. You'd be lucky to get money at all,’ he states, deadpan, eyeing Cliff charily. Cliff stammers before sighing, defeated, his shoulders going slack.

‘Okay, I admit it. They've been collecting dust since before I got here.’ Six continues to stare until Cliff relents, the merchant saying, ‘You can have them dirt cheap.’ Six nods, triumphant, and forks over a handful of caps to him. Cliff flinches as Six’s hand brushes his, but Six either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he bends over and begins to pick up as many rockets as he can hold.

‘Do you need a hand with those?’ Cliff asks gingerly, flinching as Six fumbles to catch a rocket that was beginning to slip off the pile. Six swallows down whatever unwarranted hatred he has towards himself and Cliff and nods, not trusting his voice to come out in anything but a yell. Cliff nods.

‘I’ll just get Manny for you, I’m sure he’ll be happy to lend a hand.’ With that, Cliff hurries up a flight of stairs next to him that Six, admittedly, hadn’t noticed until just now. He wiggles his torso a bit to try and stop one of the wings of a rocket from jabbing him but it only makes it worse.

Cliff returns almost instantly, a young man just behind him, and looks at Six.

‘Manny’ll help you carry the rockets up to wherever you’re staying,’ he explains. The guy looks slightly disgruntled, but nevertheless he picks up as much as he can of the models and pushes open the door with the toe of his boot.

‘With the two of you, you should be able to get all the rockets in one trip, so long as you don’t drop any,’ Cliff says, piling the last three rockets into Six’s arms. Manny nods and chuckles.

‘Thanks for your contribution, Cliff,’ he muses, though there’s humor behind his words. Cliff chuckles and shakes his head as Manny signals for Six to leave. Six thanks Cliff before following behind the man helping him lug model rockets to his motel suite.  
  
  


When they reach his suite (Six having to hail a nearby straggler to open his door for him), Six dumps his armful of rockets onto the bed, nodding at Manny when the other man quirks an eyebrow. When Manny dumps the rest of the models onto the bed, Six realises with bitter resentment that he’s going to have to move them later on. Groaning inwardly, he sits himself down on one of the motel chairs, looking at Manny.

‘Thanks for helping me,’ Six says. Manny shrugs.

‘No problem. Not much going on around Novac right now, so it was okay to leave the nest,’ he replies. Six frowns minutely.

‘Nest?’ he asks. Manny nods.

‘Yeah,’ he replies. Silence hangs between the two before Manny realises Six has absolutely no clue what he’s on about. He reckons, if he left it any longer, Six would begin to think he stayed in a bird’s nest by the way he was looking at him.

‘Sniper nest,’ the man clarifies. Six lets out a small “Ohh, right” and nods.

‘So, you’re a sniper then? Do you work for anyone?’ he asks. Manny chuckles and pulls up a chair, facing Six.

‘Did. Worked for the NCR.’ Six’s eyes widen and he scoots closer to Manny, the anger from earlier bubbling up in his throat again and turning into a cocktail of interest and frustration. 

‘What was your tour with the NCR like?’ he asks. Manny takes off his beret and runs a hand through his cropped hair. He replaces the hat before answering.

‘Oh, it was great. I wouldn't trade it.’ Manny sighs, the tiniest of smiles playing at the corner of his mouth. ‘Something about that lifestyle, the discipline. Seeing new places, making people safe. What's not to like?’ Six hums and nods. He only vaguely understands, despite doing things similar on his travels himself. 

‘So, why’d you leave?’ he asks. Manny glances away for a moment.

‘Ah, well...I just felt like it was time, you know? Wanted to have a home.’ Six, through his veil of frustration, only nods as he feels as though there’s more here than meets the eye and the best thing for him to do right now would be to shut up.

‘Plus I was up at Camp Golf when Bitter Springs went down. I faked like I was sick to get out of going, because I knew some of the people there,’ Manny sighs. ‘But when everybody came back nobody would tell me what happened. And people would call us murderers sometimes when we showed up to secure towns.’ Manny finally looks up at Six and the courier nods at him. Something like familiarity flicks at the base of Six’s skull as Manny talks about his experience, almost as if he himself had gone through something like that before- well, before he was shot in the head. Six squashes it down with the remaining anger he has and clears his throat, meeting Manny’s gaze.

‘What happened at Bitter Springs?’ he asks, shifting on his chair a little. Manny makes a small noise of frustration and it heightens Six’s own.

‘I still don't know exactly. Just that a lot of people died who didn't want to be part of the fighting at all,’ he spits out, almost as if the words were venom. Six frowns unintentionally and Manny must notice, because he rushes out, ‘I don't blame anybody for it. There's so much chaos when you're fighting, you're lucky not to shoot your own guys.’ 

‘Yeah, your own men get in the way sometimes, that happens a lot,’ Six muses, mainly to himself. Manny hums before continuing. Six still feels stupid for saying it, though, as if it were the only thing Manny’s said to him that’s stuck in his shit-fucked, bullet-hole brain.

‘But it did take something out of it for me. Just wasn't the same. So when it came time to re-enlist, I just took my papers and walked.’ Six thinks Manny almost sounds resentful for what he did, but, in all honesty, he thinks he would’ve done the same. The dull ache of familiarity rears its head again and Six has to grip the chair to stop himself from yelling. A moment of silence passes before Six feels as though he can talk again.

‘So what do you do now?’ he asks eventually. The cool steel of the chair digs into his palms and it keeps his voice steady.

‘I protect the town. You see a rifle barrel sticking out of the dinosaur's mouth, you got a fifty-fifty shot it's me. Otherwise it's Boone,’ Manny explains. Six has questions and he tries to organise them, but one slips past both the mental and verbal barrier and he finds himself saying, ‘What do you protect the town from?’ 

‘You name it. Anything that comes within a thousand yards that looks like trouble. Though lately we've been getting ghouls, coming from the road to REPCONN, out to the west. Quite a few, last couple days.’ Six blinks and Manny takes it as a cue to continue. 

‘The big threat is the Legion coming from the East. If they decide to attack with a full force they'll run us over. But so far we've been lucky.’ Six hums in thought. He’s come across the Legion prior to meeting many people and he decided for himself that he doesn’t like them one bit. Slimy bastards think they can just string people up on crosses for "being profligates". Admittedly, Six doesn't know what the word means, but that's beside the point.

‘You mentioned Boone, who’s he?’ Six asks. It’s another one of the questions he wanted to say but that one kept itself neatly in behind mental barrier until he deemed it ready to be transferred to the verbal one, unlike that stupid other question. Manny shifts slightly. Six loosens his grip on the chair.

‘Boone's a sniper, same as me. Used to spot for him when we were enlisted with the NCR. After we got out, I talked him into settling down here. So, here we are.’

‘That’s nice of you,’ Six says, smiling. Manny scoffs slightly, but it’s not directed at him. If anything, it’s directed inwards, towards Manny himself.

‘I'd introduce you, but uh... we're not so friendly right now,’ he mumbles. Six cocks his head like some sort of dog and, despite the situation, it makes Manny smile ever-so-slightly.

‘How come?’ Six questions. Manny sighs and wipes a hand over his face.

‘Me and his wife, we didn't see eye-to-eye on some things. We had some pretty big arguments. One day she turns up missing, and he hasn't said a word to me since.’ Six’s eyes widen and he scoots closer to Manny.

‘But um,’ Six tries to make the words come out right but they feel weird against his mouth and he’s sure he’d just be spitting them at Manny if he said them. Six clenches his eyes shut and tries to think of how to speak. Manny gently puts a hand on his knee.

‘Hey man, it’s alright. Take your time,’ he says. Six flinches slightly at the contact but doesn’t move away until he opens his eyes. Sucking in a deep breath, he finally asks, ‘Did you have anything to do with Boone's wife's disappearance?’ It still doesn’t come out the way he wants it to and he finds himself gripping the chair again so as to not do anything unruly. Manny reacts calmly, as though he’s used to these questions by now. Which, Six assumes, he probably is.

‘Believe me. When I heard the news, my first thought was, I owe somebody. Big. I figured Boone would come around after a while. But he hasn't. And I'm starting to think that if he doesn't find her that things will never go back to the way they were,’ Manny says.

‘Oh,’ is all Six can say. Manny chuckles and looks at him.

‘Yeah. “Oh” describes it pretty well.’ The two sit in silence for a few moments, just long enough for Six to loosen his grip almost entirely on the chair.

‘Who’d wanna hurt his wife?’ Six asks eventually. Manny leans back in his chair, expelling a breath through his mouth, whistling slightly.

‘Man, everybody. That girl didn't have one friend in this whole town. She didn't want any. What she wanted to do was to sit in her room all day and make herself miserable. And she went out of her way to be rude.’ Manny huffs and stares up at the ceiling. Six watches him and wonders if the other man can see something he can’t. Maybe something like a spider. Six likes those. Manny continues, eyes still trained to the ceiling.

‘She upset a lot of people. You wouldn't have liked her, either.’ Six nods, understanding. The woman doesn’t sound too nice. Or, well didn’t sound too nice. Or maybe she still doesn’t, depending on if she’s alive or not. Six doesn’t know. He's not the God of death, now, is he? Or maybe he is, and that's why he didn't die from the bullet wound. But wouldn't that contradict death and- ow fuck, his head hurt.

‘Hey, um. You haven’t by any chance seen a man in a chequered coat pass through, have you?’ Six asks. It’s the kind of question he’s wanted to ask everyone he’s met thus far but it’s kept slipping further behind the mental and verbal barriers and it’s just started to take up too much effort to drag them out. Spending this time with Manny chatting idly has given him the mental stimulation he’s needed to ask the question. Manny looks down from the ceiling to focus on Six.

‘Sure, I know him. What do you want with him?’ he replies easily. It’s a strange thing, for someone not to have the same intentions as him. Six grits his teeth.

‘I have a score to settle,’ her replies. Manny whistles.

‘Doesn't surprise me. Guy seemed like he'd do whatever it takes to get what he wants. Probably makes a lot of enemies.’ There’s a pause. ‘Well listen, I can definitely help you find him, but I've got problems of my own.’ Six sighs and nods. He knows how things work out here. Manny seems to take note of Six’s expression and so he continues, leaning in.

‘Maybe we can do a trade. You need my help. There's something I need, too,’ he suggests. Six looks up at him.

‘You've had your needs neglected for far too long, haven't you? I can tell,’ he says. It comes out...weird, like he’s flirting. Maybe he is, he can’t really tell. Which way does he swing, again? That bullet to the brain made him forget downright everything before he became...whatever the hell he is now. Manny blinks and leans back in his chair, eyes glued to the floor.

‘Yeah, I...everybody depends on you, you know? But they don't ask you about how you feel. What you worry about.’ Six nods. He does know, knows first-hand what it’s like.

‘There's something I like about you. You just seem really understanding. I was gonna ask you for a favor, but I'll just tell you what you wanna know,’ Manny concludes. Six waits patiently.

‘The guy you’re looking for, Benny, he was travelling with some members from my old gang. They were going to Boulder City,’ Manny explains. 

‘Oh. Thank you,’ he replies, questions whirling in his head. He chooses one carefully, rolling it around in his mouth to make sure it's a good one, before asking.

‘You were in a gang?’ Six asks. Manny hums and nods. ‘Were they...were they tough?’ Manny laughs, smiling at Six. Six smiles too, though he doesn’t know why. Manny isn't mocking him, though he sure feels as though he is.

‘Were they tough? I was in the Khans, man. It doesn't get any badder,’ Manny chuckles. Six’s blood runs cold. The chequered coat man, Benny, was with people he called Khans. Ah shit.

‘Oh, wow,’ Six mumbles. Manny hums. There's a brief moment of silence.

‘Well, it’s getting kinda late now, I should probably get back to the nest before Boone takes the shift,’ Manny says, coming to stand up from the chair. Six does the same, eyeing the pile of rockets on his bed with contempt, and goes to open the door for him.

‘Thanks for telling me about chequered- uh, Benny ,’ Six says, smiling smally at the man. Manny returns the smile as he steps out onto the motel porch.

‘Hey, no problem.’ He fidgets slightly, looking down at the floor and then up at Six again. His smile turns to one that has “nervous” practically engraved into it. Six cocks his head.

‘Look,’ Manny begins, eyes pleading, ‘I know you got no reason to help me now, but you seem really nice. Could I at least tell you about the problem we've got here?’ Six blinks.

‘Why wouldn’t I have a reason to help out?’ he asks, head still cocked, eyes boring a hole into Manny’s. Manny shifts somewhat uncomfortably.

‘Well, I mean, you’ve got the intel you want, right? Why would you want to help us out?’ Six doesn’t want to say he sounds stupid because even he knows that it’s not something nice to say, not right now, but maybe if he gives him a subtle look, Manny’ll understand. 

A brief wave of silence passes over the two like a cold breeze and Six begins to think that maybe the look he gave him wasn’t the right one.

‘I want to help you,’ he says finally, voice stiff. Frustration begins to bubble again. Manny’s face brightens and he smiles at Six widely. Six thinks it almost comical.

‘See? I was right about you,’ he grins. Six smiles back, though it feels a little stiff. Manny clears his throat before explaining.

‘The ghouls over at REPCONN, they gotta go, or this'll be a ghost town before long. Doesn't matter to me what you do. As long as the ghouls are out of there, that's good enough for me,’ he says, adjusting his beret. Six frowns.

‘Oh,’ he mumbles. Manny looks at him sympathetically, hand placing itself on Six's shoulder. Six tries not to punch him.

‘Hey, you don’t have to do it, it’d just help me out a lot if-’ Six cuts him off with a shake of his head.

‘No, it’s not that. I’ve already helped them out at REPCONN,’ Six elucidates. Manny’s eyes brighten and he gives Six’s shoulder a friendly slap. Six tries his hardest not to flinch. This man is a friend, not an enemy.

‘Really? Unbelievable, man! I guess that wasn't an easy one. But even before I asked, I had a good feeling about you.’ Manny’s smiling at him, eyes crinkling at the edges. Six smiles back.

‘You look like you’ve been through a lot.’ Six nods and the bullet wound on his head throbs psychosomatically. He thinks he wants to show Manny, but he’s not sure if that would be wise. He doesn’t know why. His fingers itch and he really, really wants to show Manny but he finally decides against it. 

‘Yeah, you could say that,’ Six chuckles dryly. Manny smiles softly at him. Six meets his eye and hesitation hangs thickly between them before Manny brings him in for a tight hug. Six’s body stiffens but he brings his arms up to return it. It’s friendly, like hugs between soldiers at camp and that familiar itch of remembrance comes again like a wave of nausea.

Manny pulls away, smile still present, before he says, ‘I’d better get back to the nest.’ 

‘Yeah, that’s fine. Thank you for your help, Manny,’ Six says. Manny chuckles and shrugs.

‘No problem, thanks for yours. Even if you didn’t know what you were helping with while you were at REPCONN.’ Six grins and thanks Manny once again before he disappears down the rusted staircase to the courtyard. Six turns and walks back into his motel room and closes the door behind him. The rockets glare at him from their position on the bed and Six flips them off, yawning loudly. Maybe he’ll just sleep on the floor or something instead.   
  
  


When Six awakens the next day, his back is stiff and he thinks he’s snapped his neck at some point with how badly it’s hurting. He sits up and grasps the bed for support as he tries to stand. As he does, around a dozen model rockets come tumbling onto him, almost smashing as they hit the dirty carpet floor and Six’s head. Six gasps as he lunges to catch the rockets, managing to catch all but one. It chips minutely but Six gets the uneasy feeling, as he places the caught models back onto the bed, that it might cause problems later on. Gently picking the model up, Six examines it. Maybe if he can get some spare glass, possibly some screws, he might be able to fix it. If he can’t get screws, maybe the tape in his bag might work.

  
  


Six spends time in his room, repairing the rocket (settling on taping the thing up until he can find a better solution) then moving onto dismantling and cleaning his guns, periodically snacking on Salisbury and InstaMash, washing it all down with small amounts of beer. By the time he’s done, it’s almost nine in the evening. Six somewhat regrets not seeing Manny all day, but he supposes that it’s not really up to him to dictate when and where Manny is 24/7; after all, the man’s taken care of himself for more than twenty years, he doesn’t need someone like Six calling the shots.

Well, he might as well just bid him a goodnight. He’d found out through Jeannie which shift he took at the dinosaur and, if the time was right on his Pip-Boy, Manny should be leaving in around five or so minutes. Six walks over to his knapsack and pulls out a box of already-opened Dandy Boy Apples before leaving the suite to visit the dinosaur.

Six manages to catch Manny just in time. The sniper’s walking down the stairs, yawing, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. He waves at Cliff, and the merchant waves back cheerily, before he notices Six standing in the doorway.

‘Oh, hey man,’ he greets, warm smile spreading across his lips, as he shifts the rifle on his back.

‘Hello Manny,’ Six replies. ‘I just came to say goodnight, and-’ Six cuts himself off as a question from yesterday wiggles into his mind, shoving its way through the verbal barrier, messing up his words. Manny waits patiently for him to continue, smile still present.

‘And, um. You mentioned Boulder City yesterday, where is it?’ Six asks. Wow, how’d he let that one slip past? He fights the urge to tug down his cowboy hat just to give the hand that’s not holding the box of apples something to do. Manny chuckles.

‘Oh right. Yeah, I probably should’ve told you to begin with. It's straight up Route 93 from here. Just keep following the road north,’ he answers. Six nods and thanks him.

‘Do you know why they went that way?’ he asks. He knows he’s taking up Manny’s time to get some rest but his mind can’t find the feeling that accompanies it (should it be guilt? Manny seems content to tell him, he doesn't seem in a rush), so he ignores it. Manny shrugs.

‘No clue. I know Benny hadn't paid up yet. Maybe that was where they were supposed to get square,’ he suggests. Six thanks him again before bidding him a goodnight and Manny waves goodbye as he leaves the dinosaur. 

‘Is Boone up there?’ Six asks, once Manny has left, to Cliff, who’s yawning as he pages through a pre-war book. Cliff looks up and nods.

‘Yeah, go on right up.’ Six nods and digs his hand into the open box of Dandy Boy Apples, pulling one out and biting down on it. 

There’s a door at the top of the stairs and Six opens it to find the other sniper standing with the barrel of his rifle sticking out of the dinosaur’s mouth. The sniper, Boone, jumps and turns around. Six thinks idly if he’s ever shot someone who’s come in uninvited.

‘Goddamn it! Don’t sneak up on me like that. What do you want?’ he asks, no, practically snarls at Six. Six swallows the chunk of apple he’s bitten and looks around the dinosaur. 

‘Expecting visitors?’ Six asks, taking another bite of apple as his eyes drift towards Boone. Boone scoffs and folds his arms.

‘Yeah,’ he mutters. ‘I guess maybe I am. But not like you.’ Six cocks his head, going in for another bite. Boone glances away as he tacks on, ‘Huh. Maybe it should’ve been you I was expecting all along.’

‘Why’s-’

‘Why are you here?’ Boone cuts off Six mid-sentence, eyes narrowing. Six mimics his posture and swallows.

‘I just wanted to check out the view, that’s all,’ he replies simply. The apple is half-finished and he drops it into the box with a soft thump. Boone narrows his eyes further, if that’s even possible, and Six thinks he looks a bit stupid like that.

‘I think you’d better leave,’ he mumbles. Six makes a noise that he doesn’t recognise, a small squeak which levels somewhere between disappointment and surprise, and he places the apples on a small desk near Boone and Manny’s shared chair.

‘I’m just making friendly conversation,’ he replies, voice low for such a placid statement. He thinks he should feel threatened, but he doesn’t. Instead, he feels the anger buzz at his fingertips and at the corner of his lips.

Boone scoffs before he mutters, ‘I don’t have friends here.’ Six cocks his head again, eyes narrow like Boone’s. It’s almost comical; two grown men standing in a metal dinosaur's mouth having a stare-off. If not for the situation, he’d have laughed.

‘But I’m not from here.’ Six realises he doesn’t actually know where he’s from, now that he’s said it. He hopes Boone doesn’t ask.

‘No. No, you’re not, are you?’ Six thinks it’s a rhetorical question but he nods his head regardless as Boone continues. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t go. Not just yet.’ If Six didn’t know better, he’d think Boone sounds desperate. Maybe he is.

‘Why’s that?’ Six asks. It feels like a game of cat and mouse; Boone leaving mines of cryptic statements, Six carefully treading over them and, instead, placing his own to catch him out. Boone finally lets his eyes return to normal as he replies, ‘I need someone I can trust. You’re a stranger. That’s a start.’ If Six could cock his head any further, he would, though he’s pretty sure he’d break his neck if he tried. He wants to ask more, but he finds himself saying, ‘What do you want me to do?’ Boone sighs, stiffening and standing up straighter.

‘I want you to find something out for me. I don’t know if there’s anything to find, but I need someone to try,’ Boone explains. Well, he doesn’t really explain as such, just leaves another vague sentence for Six to pick at. Six nods and rolls his shoulders to get rid of the ache in them.

‘My wife was taken from our home by Legion slavers one night while I was on watch. They knew when to come and what route to take, and they only took Carla. Someone set it up. I don’t know who.’ Six thinks Boone sounds remorseful as he sighs and wipes a hand down his face, under his glasses. He looks tired. 

‘Oh, so you’re trying to track down your wife?’ Six asks. Boone glares at him, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides and Six almost thinks Bone’s going to hit him until he says, lowly, ‘My wife’s dead. I want that son of a bitch who sold her.’ It takes a while to sink in but, when it does, Six feels himself swallow dryly. He feels nervous, his palms clammy and voice coming out in scratches.

‘What do I do if I find them?’ he asks, hand preemptively brushing over the 9mm on his belt as Boone moves about. If he tries anything, I shoot.

‘Bring them out in front of the nest here while I’m on duty. I work nights,’ Boone explains. Six knows, Jeannie told him the schedule when he asked her about Manny, though he thinks it best not to mention. Boone seems like the type of man to want privacy. Though Six doesn’t know why he feels the need to make Boone more comfortable. Boone clears his throat.

‘I’ll give you my NCR beret to put on. It’ll be our signal, so I know you’re standing with them.’ Boone removes his beret and places it into Six’s outstretched hand, the red material brushing against pale scars on his tanned hand.

‘What should I do then?’ he queries, turning the beret over in his hands, inspecting the worn leather of the rim.

‘I’ll take care of the rest. I need to do this myself.’ Six nods, turning his attention away from the hat and back to Boone. He wonders how many people he’s asked to do this job.

‘I’ll see what I can do for you, Boone,’ Six says, smiling, though he thinks it may seem fake to Boone. Boone stares at him as Six fumbles with the beret in his hands, almost as if he’s never seen one before. Boone straightens, seemingly lost without his prized hat.

‘Good. I’ll make it worth your while. And one more thing; we shouldn’t speak again. Not until this is over.’ Six understands. He sticks his hand out, the one not gripping the beret, and Boone hesitantly takes it, shaking it stiffly. Six has to fight himself from gripping Boone’s hand too hard as the familiar twinge of recognition sets itself at the base of his skull. Boone’s the first to pull away and Six goes to pick up his box of apples before bidding him a goodnight and heading back to his motel suite before he does something stupid.  
  
  


At this point, he’s not even bothered when he sees the rockets; virtually numb to the things glaring at him with their...their radioactiveness . Six sits himself down in front of the dresser, Boone’s hat clenched firmly in his scarred hands. The emblem on it strikes a chord with him and he shakes slightly, his brain short-circuiting as it works overtime to try and provide Six with an answer to the deja vu he feels. It fails and Six angrily slams his hand onto the dresser, making a last-minute decision to throw the beret to the ground to avoid damaging it. Last thing he wants is Boone to blow his head into a million pieces. Though, history would suggest that he’d survive it.

Six places his head in his hands, heaving slightly at the mental exertion. His eyes are wide as he stares at the chipped, stained wood in front of him. He doesn’t even know why the beret would make him react this way, just knows that it frustrates him to no end. He wants to help Boone, if only to satisfy his own curiosity as to who took his wife. Well, at least he knows she’s dead. That’s...something, he supposes.

  
  
  


Jeannie had mentioned to him at some point that they had running water, but a very short supply of it. So, if he wanted a bath, it would have to be a shallow one. 

Six sits in the cracked tub, water lapping at his lower back. He can’t really stretch his legs, he’s far too tall for that, but he’s thankful that he’s able to at least bathe. He feels the desert dust and sweat wash off of him and he sighs. There isn’t much to wash himself with other than half an old, pre-war bar of soap, but nevertheless, Six is glad to get clean, even if the bar of soap was coated in someone else’s...body hair. He doesn’t really fancy thinking about that.

Once he’s out of the bath, he gets changed back into his clothes once he deems himself dry enough and he sets about moving the model rockets from the bed. It’s a bloody boring job, but Six promises himself that he’ll solve Boone’s mystery afterwards. Maybe it’s not quite a mystery, Six thinks that sounds kinda childish, but he thinks he likes that. Anyway, whatever he wants to call it, it needs to be solved. Perhaps sooner rather than later.

Once he’s done moving the models about, the rockets now surrounding the sides of his bed, Six steps outside and walks down the stairs. Maybe he should ask around, see if anyone’s seen anything interesting, instead of blindly accusing people of kidnap.

Six asks about, nobody really having anything all too interesting to say. Same-old, same-old, though he can’t really blame them; doesn’t seem very interesting here. Sighing, Six walks over to a small shack just round the back of the motel. As he pushes open the door, he comes face-to-face with a shotgun and slams his head into an empty Nuka Cola bottle strung up by some twine. He doesn’t cry out, just stiffens and pulls his 9mm from its holster. His head throbs and he feels the word “Owie” fill up his mouth, but he shoves it down.

‘Who are you?’ a man barks from the other end of the room, shotgun gripped firmly in his hands. Six holds his 9mm ahead of him at the man.

‘I mean you no harm, I’ve come to ask questions about the town,’ he replies, voice firm and steady, taking on that of a commanding officer. The ragged man ahead of him lowers his gun and Six does the same with his pistol, though not holstering it. Even he can see this man is slightly unhinged. Ragged Man, Six decides to call him, sits himself down and places his gun about a foot away from him.

‘What do you know about the abduction of Boone’s wife?’ Six asks. His voice cracks at the end and anger buzzes at his lips. He clamps his mouth shut not even a second after asking the question. Ragged Man takes a deep breath through his nose.

‘Seen it all. Seen shadowy folk come to his room and leave again in the middle of the night. Thought one might've gone in the lobby, too, for a spell. Could be that person went in to get something. Or use the john maybe. Mighty interesting either way, you ask me. I thought it was cannibals, come to eat us all for sure, so I kept out of sight. But now I know better,’ Ragged Man mutters, voice taking on strange intonations at certain points. Six nods. Maybe he understands him, or maybe he just thinks he wants to, but Six thanks Ragged Man regardless and exits the shack, narrowly avoiding a tripwire.  
  


‘Well hi there, how’re you?’ Jeannie May greets as Six walks through the door. He’d waited some time before coming in, hoping that her shift would end at some point. After asking Manny and finding out the lobby closes somewhere around half midnight, Six waited inside his suite and cleaned his guns, making sure he ate something.

‘Hey Jeannie, I’m doing good,’ he replies, smiling. Jeannie stuffs some things into what looks to be a handbag and she rises from her seat behind the lobby counter.

‘I’m just getting ready to leave actually, the lobby closes in a couple of minutes.’ Jeannie is stiff and firm but Six can sense something else there, something he doesn’t recognise. He nods, smile still present.

‘Oh, that’s fine. I just came to use the vending machine.’ Six points to the Sunset Sarsaparilla machine to emphasise his point, the scars on his hand standing out starkly against his tanned skin in the dim light of the room. Jeannie smiles at him and nods, swinging her handbag over her shoulder.

‘Oh, well, alright. Please make sure you lock up afterwards, hon. The key is already in the door,’ she says before waving Six a goodnight and disappearing out the lobby door. Six blinks and turns away, staring at the floor ahead of him. He hadn't expected things to go that well; expected there to be a little more resistance. Six pads over to the vending machine anyway and fingers five caps into the makeshift hole crudely carved into the side, just below the pre-war coin slot. He has to shake it for the bottle to fall, but he’s grateful when he does. Now at least he can say he isn't lying. He doesn’t know why he cares if he does anyway, but the sentiment seems buried into him; ingrained into his subconscious so hard it almost hurts.

Six gets the cap off the bottle by using the corner of the counter and slamming it down before taking a generous gulp. He prefers Sunset Sarsaparilla to Nuka Cola, but he supposes that’s because everyone here drinks it. 

Six wanders about the room, glancing between cracks to try and see if anything looks amiss. There looks to be a large stash of chems in a loose piece of drywall but he looks the other way; Novac seems like an admittedly boring place and Six isn’t one to judge someone for escaping by using drugs, especially since he himself has dealt with the same sort of issue since coming from Goodsprings; taking nearly every chem he could get his undead hands on and almost overdosing more times than he'd like to remember. His fingers itch. He's still not used to being clean.

Thinking the tale No-Bark had given him may be nothing but a thing of insane imagination, Six gives behind the counter a once-over. But that’s when he sees it; a floor safe, blocked almost completely from sight by Jeannie’s desk-chair. Six’s eyes widen and he sets the bottle of Sunset on the counter, crouching down and pushing the desk-chair out of the way. It moves with a small squeak of protest but Six ignores it in favour of focusing on unlocking the safe. He knows he has bobby pins on him, never leaves without them, actually, and he fishes a handful of them out, scattering them in front of him on the grimy floor. 

It takes a few tries and much self-control not to punch the fucking thing, but Six manages to get the safe open. There’s a sizable amount of caps stashed away inside, along with a pistol and some corresponding ammo, and then there’s a slip of paper. Six pulls it out, hands still stiff from clenching them earlier, and copies it to his Pip-Boy. He reads through it, stumbling on the words, but he thinks he gets the gist. He’s...surprised. And maybe a little disappointed that the mystery is solved, though he knows that’s not the response he should have.  
  


* * *

_ We, the representatives of the Consul Officiorum, have this day bargained and purchased from Jeannie May Crawford of the township of Novac the exclusive rights to ownership and sale of the slave Carla Boone for the sum of one thousand bottle caps, and those of her unborn child for the sum of five hundred bottle caps, the receipt whereof is hereby acknowledged. We warrant the slave and her young to be sound, healthy, and slaves for life. We covenant with the said, Jeannie May Crawford, that we have full power to bargain and sell said slave and her offspring. Payment of an additional five hundred bottle caps will be due pending successful maturation of the fetus, the claim to which shall be guaranteed by possession of this document. M. Scribonius Libo Drusus et al. _

  
  


_ Administrators of M. Licinius Crassus, Consul Officiorum ab Famulatus _

* * *

  
  
  


Six thinks that it would be weird to simply barge into Jeannie’s room at two in the morning just to drag her out to see the dinosaur, so he decides to wait until the start of Boone’s shift the next day. Then, he decides, he’ll leave to Boulder City and find the bastard who put a bullet in his head. And put one in his. See how that fucker likes it, though Six knows Chequered Man won't survive the bullet he puts in him.

  
  


The majority of his day is spent sleeping, cleaning his guns and stocking up on food. He knows that this motel room is practically his now, so he leaves most of his crap in the suite, only keeping the things he knows for sure he’ll need.   
  


Night comes quickly, Six finds, when you sleep most of the day. He packs his things, fully ignoring those fucking rockets that litter his room, and heads out to meet Boone, double-checking that he has the beret the sniper gave him before he stuffs it into his pocket. 

He wants to yell something when he sees Jeannie, something like “Caught you!” in a friendly, calm, fun way, but he knows that would probably end badly. This woman needs to be brought to justice, and it is Six’s goddamn job to do so.  
  


He feels a strange, almost child-like, nervousness bubble up inside him as he pushes open the door to the lobby, his right hand scratching the outside of his thigh to give it something to do. Jeannie, as expected, is sitting behind the counter.

‘Hello George.’ She greets him with a smile. Six almost asks who George is before his brain catches up and stops him. He is George, at least, to Jeannie. Six smiles at her before clearing his throat.

‘Come with me. There's something you should see, in front of the dinosaur. It’s really cool!’ he finds himself saying, clenching the red beret in his jacket pocket. Huh. Child-like nervousness has pushed its way in once again. Jeannie raises an eyebrow but rises from her seat to follow Six. He leads the way out of the lobby, heart thumping in his ears as he chats to her idly about his time in Goodsprings and the robot, Victor, who rescued him from his crude, shallow grave. 

  
  
  


They near the front of the dinosaur and Six blinks, the anger fizzing in every part of his body. It doesn’t mix well with the child-like nervousness. Doesn’t mix well _at all_. Jeannie looks about herself, trying to understand why Six has brought her out here, and Six fishes the beret out of his pocket. He hesitates and looks at Jeannie. She’s not looking at him; instead, she’s looking to the left of her at a bird across the street. Six doesn’t think, just does. Leaning in, he whispers, ‘Got you’ and almost slams the beret onto his head. There's a crack and for a brief moment, he thinks he's reopened the hole in his skull that Vegas prick put in him. There's flash so bright and Six thinks he's entered some sort of afterlife, and he feels something warm splatter the side of his face and leather armour. Then he hears it; the thud as Jeannie's body lay on the rocky pavement, undignified and slumped in on itself. He turns to look at the corpse and feels himself jump minutely at the sight, the anger making his hands shake but the childishness making him turn and grin up at Boone, mock-saluting him as he trots into the dinosaur.  
  


Cliff isn’t in the shop when Six enters the dinosaur, but he doesn’t think too much about that because his legs are already taking him up the steps to Boone two at a time. Slamming the door open, Six almost tumbles into the sniper, nearly knocking them both out of the dinosaur’s mouth to join Jeannie May, splattered against the rocky path below. Boone doesn’t jump, though he spins around to face Six, eyes hidden by his sunglasses. Six doesn’t know how he even managed to see Jeannie and him in this darkness. He must be a damn good sniper, better than Six had previously thought. 

Six hesitates. Now that the problem has been dealt with, he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to bury himself in some other issue almost as much as he wants to go after Chequered Man. He doesn't want to face The Problem just yet, he wants to get better at stuff before he goes after that Vegas prick.

‘How did you know it was her?’ Boone asks, breaking the silence between the two. Six feels guilt bubble in his stomach. He read the bill of sale, didn’t he? Yeah, he did, but he can’t exactly read properly. What if it turns out he’s wrong? Six clenches his fists before replying.

‘I found the bill of sale.’ His voice is firm, steady. Boone nods sharply, all army-like as if Six is another soldier in his division.

‘I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It'd be like them to keep paperwork,’ Boone mutters. Six hums in agreement, though he doesn’t really know what Boone means. Boone sucks in a sharp breath before saying, ‘Keep the beret. It’s all I have to give. I think our dealings are done here.’ Six’s throat goes dry, finds it hard to swallow

‘So...what’re you gonna do now?’ he asks, eyes burning a hole into into the corpse of Jeannie May outside, just barely visible. Boone stiffens. Maybe he hasn’t thought about this, Six thinks. Maybe Boone never expected to find out who killed his wife; maybe, deep down in the darkest fucking part of his mind, he didn’t want to find out. The action of needing and searching for something for so, so long and eventually getting your answer can do terrible things to a man. His reason for living has been stripped from him, leaving him bare with nothing, absolutely nothing, giving him a reason to live. Six blinks. He...doesn’t know what to make of that thought; it feels invasive, not like his own, so he pushes it to the back of his mind. Maybe he’ll take a look at it later. Boone clears his throat.

‘I...I don’t know. I won't be staying, I know that. Don't see much point in anything right now, except hunting legionaries,’ he explains. Six adjusts the beret on his head, the feeling of it being there bringing waves of familiarity to him that feel as though they pool at his feet like fresh blood. He thinks he likes it.

‘Why don’t you come with me?’ Six asks. He doesn’t mean to ask it, actually; it just slips out. Maybe the stuff that slips out is what he means, though. Maybe it’s him being the most honest. 

‘I-,’ Boone cuts himself off with a stiff breath in. ‘I suppose that wouldn’t be the worst idea.’ Six grins at him, straightening himself and brushing himself off, and extends a hand. Boone grips it and gives it a firm shake.

‘Thank you,’ Six says. Boone only grunts, shouldering his rifle once he lets Six’s hand go. There’s a pause. Six doesn’t know what to say and his eyes drift over to Jeannie’s corpse as a distraction. Boone obviously notices this change and he turns around to look, grimace spread over his lips. Six can tell it hurts him to think of what happened to his wife.

‘Come on,’ he says, tapping the roof of the dinosaur’s mouth. ‘Let’s get going.’ Boone turns to face him and he gives a sharp nod. Six grins at him and opens the door, walking down and out the dinosaur and into the Mojave Wasteland.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to get the dialogue as close as possible to the canon dialogue but then realised that it might sound better if I improvised, a realisation that came waaay too late. That's why the ending's a bit different here than it is in the game. Also, I'm still working out who exactly Six is, so he still needs a bit of tweaking until he's fully polished 
> 
> Anyway, comments and kudos are always appreciated, I hope you enjoyed it


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